Beautiful Disaster
by alaricnomad
Summary: Peter/Claire. “He had always prided himself on being able to read her, but she was a mystery to him now, a mixed up, beautiful disaster of a woman.” ONESHOT.


**--****Beautiful Disaster--**

A/N: Rated for mature themes. Reader discretion advised.

Carrying a pair of gold sling-backs in one hand, relieving her hair from a tight twist with her other, Claire crept quietly into the manor, her footfalls nearly silent in their tread. Making her way up the marble suitcase and down the corridor toward her bedroom, a sudden iron-grip around her forearm startled her, a hand covering her mouth to stifle her surprised yelp. Pulled into her bedroom, the door quietly closed behind them, surprise quickly turned to anger; she knew who it was, it couldn't really be anyone else.

"There are better ways to get my attention than to manhandle me, Uncle Peter."

Peter appeared before her, looking her over. Tight corset top, leather mini-skirt, blood-red lipstick and too-heavy makeup. The scent of cigarettes and other men's cologne filled his nose, making him want to retch. "What the hell have you been?"

"None of your business," The nineteen-year-old snubbed back at him.

He reached out and buried his hand in her dark hair (he'd hated it at first, but it seemed to suit her now), yanking back her head so she had no choice but to face him. "It's my business when you're living in this house."

As he breathed out, she could smell alcohol on him, remnants of her father's expensive liquor. But he was far from drunk, no matter how he might try; it was impossible for them. "It's _Nathan's_ house," she pointed out.

"And what do you think it does to my brother's image to have his daughter whoring around the streets at four in the morning?"

Her slap was hard enough to snap his head to the side, but he paid it no mind. "Fuck you," she spat.

He snorted. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Her eyes widened and she backed away. "What are you talking about?"

His mouth twisted into a snarl. "Is that how it is? You'll spread your legs for any guy that comes your way 'cause you can't have what you want? Pathetic."

"You're a bastard."

"And you're a spoiled brat."

"Go to hell, Peter."

"Already there, kid."

She moved to strike him, but he grabbed her arm, twisting her wrist with a pain she could barely feel. But as the gesture was meant to cow her, it had its desired effect, and the most she could do was glare at him tiredly. "What do you want from me?"

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

His hold on her eased, and he shifted closer. "You do all this shit, and it means nothing to you. You're so miserable, you have no choice but to make everyone else around you just as miserable. I'm sick of you hiding."

He slid his hands up into her hair, stroking his thumbs against her temples. "Tell. Me. What. You. Want."

The sudden tenderness unnerved her and she pushed him away. "I want you, alright?! I admit it. Are you happy now, you bitter son of a bitch?!"

He stilled. "Say that again."

Claire ignored the hoarse quality to his voice, defensively wrapping her arms around her middle. "You're the one I want. The only one."

Peter shuddered with a trembling breath, stepping toward her once more. "And you are _all_ I want," he whispered, feeling the weight of forbidden confessions two years in-the-making hanging in the air between them.

There were tears, bright and glassy in her eyes, and as he tried to embrace her, she slapped him yet again. He narrowed his eyes, shoving her back against the wall as she fought against his hold. He pressed his lips brutally to hers, and it was sin in all its ugly, bittersweet finesse.

It was more a battle than a kiss, and as she intentionally bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, she half-expected him to back away, put a stop to things. She was shocked when he only pressed into her harder, lodging a knee between her legs. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as his mouth crushed over hers again, his tongue thrusting into her mouth to drive her to the edges of what they had to give and take.

Her hips rose against him, the black material catching between them with groans of frustration from them both. He tore open her shirt, raining kisses down her neck as he slipped her panties down her legs, pushing her skirt up to her hips. She gasped lightly, as his hand found its way between her thighs, fingers delving inside her. He crooked them, stroking his thumb against her clit, and she bit down on his neck, earning a grunt in return.

He lowered his head to pay homage to her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, scraping his teeth over the sensitive bud. She moaned at the mix of pain and pleasure, her hands clenching into fists in his thick thatch of hair. He raised his head, meeting green eyes full of so much more then he could ever understand.

He had always prided himself on being able to read her, but she was a mystery to him now, a mixed up, beautiful disaster of a woman. Rummaging out a condom from his back pocket, he kissed her firmly, the clicking of his belt buckle and the silken sound of his zipper undoing the only sound between them.

He parted her legs, lifting her to him to wrap them around his hips and then he was plunging into her, his pace harsh and quick as they crashed into the wall again and again. She clutching at his shoulders, nails raking down his back and breaking into skin, no matter as they healed themselves over. She struggled to keep from screaming as the unrelenting friction took her higher and higher. He pounded into her, growling into her ear how good she felt.

As he slammed into one final time, she tightened almost painfully around him with the severity of her climax. With her teeth in her shoulder to stifle her scream, he gave himself over to his pleasure. Emptying into her, he spiraled, and he wasn't sure if it was his redemption or his damnation he met.

He slumped against her, sinking into her warmth as her arms opened to hold him. His sweat-soaked hair plastered against his forehead, he rested his flushed face against the cool wall behind her, mind buzzing. She turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut as if to banish the memory of the crime they had committed, twin tears suddenly glistening against her cheeks.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear, her voice bitter and resigned. "I love you, and I hate you for it."

"You're not the only one," he muttered, feeling nothing but numb.


End file.
